


Paint

by bleeeeeeep



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Changing Perspectives, Jealousy, M/M, Scheming, cuteness, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-10 20:31:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4406480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleeeeeeep/pseuds/bleeeeeeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's up to Ron to get Harry and Draco together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> points of view do change! before the change, there will be a large space between paragraphs.

              Before we start, let it be established that Ronald Weasley has always, and will (probably) forever be, an oblivious man.  He can barely tell when his wife is mad or feeling other emotion.  His brain does not process implications.  He always has to be told straight to his face.  This situation, however, he just couldn't ignore.

 

 

_Roses are red,_

_and violets are not really blue,_

_none that matters though because_

_what I would like to say is -_

_despite how much I'll deny it_

_and tell you it isn't true,_

_I am hopelessly, hopelessly_

_in love with you._

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Stay,” Harry requests. He already knows the answer. It’s worth a try regardless. It’s always worth a shot. Right?  His feelings have to mean something.

“You know the deal, _Potter_ ,” he just has to enunciate the usage of Harry’s surname.  Malfoy huffs for good measure.  “How many times do I have to say tell you what this is before you understand?”

Harry just sighs.  _Fuck, it’s amazing how cold you manage to be.  Even with my come dripping down your inner thighs,_ he wants to say. “How many times do I have to ask for a chance to convince you otherwise?” he shoots back. 

It’s not just sex.  He hears it when Draco whimpers upon being worked open, when he licks that ridiculously perfect jaw line, when the head of his dick pushes past the rim of that tight little hole.  Stupid git just won’t admit it.

Draco glares and begins looking for articles of clothing he practically tore off earlier.  _Not that many, if we’re being honest here_.  But we’re not. _And I’m not doing this right now._

Silence falls over the room.

The blonde finds what he can and Floos home. 

 _Socks are replaceable,_ he tells himself.  He was okay with missing a sock.  Even losing his favorite tie was fine.  Anything would be preferable over having it out with Potter.  He wonders why he even bothers going there.

 _I don’t do relationships_ , he reiterates in his mind, as he heads for the shower.  He knows he’s lying to himself, but he doesn’t care. If there was ever something he simply could not afford, it was being emotionally available.  Therefore, sex has to be enough.  And Potter, Potter’s performance is always satisfactory. That being said, he answers his own question.  He bothers because good service is hard to find.

Hot water runs through Draco’s hair and down his back.  You can’t see them, but the thoughts that plagued him moments ago get washed down the drain. In those moments, nothing matters, save for soapy bubbles swirling into the sewage system.

 

Back in his room, Harry’s staring up at the ceiling, still naked, covered in sweat, semen, and saliva from who knows how long ago.  It can’t have been more than an hour.

He pulls the sheets up to his waist. It stops him from looking at the hickey Malfoy left on his hip earlier.  He would call it a ‘love bite’ if there had actually been any _love_ involved.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know the conditions of whatever they were doing.  _Fucking_ sounds so vulgar, to him. The term is realistic, but he wants more.  If it had been anybody else he fell into bed with, that world would have been fine.

Stupid him for thinking he could change Malfoy’s mind.  Harry almost laughs at the thought.  _I can die and come back to life, but I can’t get him to stay the night._ Whatever. He rolls out of bed and starts a bath.

 

 

Harry simply nods when he sees Draco at work the next day.  He does not care to be treated like a cock for anybody to simply fuck themselves on, much less converse with somebody who’s quite insistent on doing _just_ that.

It’s a good thing he had lots to do that day.  There was a fresh new stack of cases on his desk.  It was good, considering Ron had plans to come back to work from maternity leave a little later in the morning.  His main task was finding cases Hermione wouldn’t freak out about her husband taking.  Salazar knows she had seen enough of the hospital on both his and Ron’s behalves.

One in particular seemed perfect – somebody had started selling fake Pygmy Puffs that would explode paint everywhere after three hours.  It was funny, yet somewhat urgent.  Wizarding London was beginning to look like somebody had started a paintball fight all over it.   The elderly people were just about _everywhere_ muttering about hooligans and their Muggle graffiti.  Any more complaints and the collective brain of the Ministry would probably explode.

He also had to explain new protocols (as stupid as they were) to his best friend. There was a crackdown going on about stealing tea bags from labeled boxes and robbing fellow Aurors of their lunch. That was mostly Harry’s fault. He couldn’t help snickering as Parkinson whined about her cute little tea sandwiches each time he had forgotten to pack his own.

Who would’ve thought? The Boy Who Lived reduced to a giggling sandwich thief.  Nobody was any the wiser, for he had his own office to munch away in.   
There was also a new rule about sneaking pints during lunch.  The Leaky Cauldron had been ordered not to serve alcoholic drinks to anybody who was working at the Ministry until they were done for the day. Finnegan was to blame for that. You couldn’t really _blame_ Shacklebolt for instating that rule after he’d been the unsuspecting and unintended target of projectile vomit.  Nonetheless, it meant that everybody had to suffer.

Harry sighed at that thought. Maybe it’d be a good thing. No more drunken afternoon gropes with Malfoy in the storage closet or in the men’s room or in his office or just about anywhere.  With the lack of alcohol to inhibit his decisions, he would be able to get the emotionally stingy blonde out of his mind.  For the most part, at least.

As he sips on rapidly cooling coffee, he mulls over what he’s forgotten on today’s to-do list, not that he writes things down.  They are all in his mind.  Which makes them easy to forget.  Oops.

The knock at the door reminds him.  “Hello, Mr. Potter?”

“Call me Harry, please,” he says before looking up.  A tall young man with dirty blonde hair and blue doe-eyes is standing shyly in the doorway.  “Sorry, who might you be?”  
“Christopher Bale, Mr. Potter. I believe I’m your new secretary.” He kept his hands behind his back in an attempt to keep his posture.  Harry, of course, found it adorable.“I have a new secretary?”  Harry tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows.“Ummm… unless there’s another Harry Potter that is the head of the Auror Department? The agency sent me,” he looked flushed and awkward.  It was really quite cute.  
_Wait._ What am I doing thinking about this new employee I didn’t know about?  _Well.  Whatever.  It’s not like Malfoy and I were an item anyway._   Harry shook his head and refocused.  “Oh.  Okay. Let’s find you a desk to work at, I suppose.”  
As he stood up to lead Christian to his new workspace around the corner from his office, he failed to catch Draco glaring blatantly from his desk at the blonde still standing in the doorway. Ron, who arrived in the office just on time, didn’t.

 _If he lays a finger on ---_ his thoughts are interrupted by a familiar redhead, who has conveniently stepped into his line of view.

“Jealous, are we?” Weasley asks.

“Of what?  The lanky twink or that feather duster Potter calls hair?” Draco snaps back.

He wants to punch that grin right of the Weasel’s face.  Especially since the twinkle in his eye says he’s figured it out. _For fuck’s sake._

Weasley just walks away, heading towards Potter’s office to wait for instructions.  Draco would throw his mug at that stupid ginger head if he thought his cup of tea deserved such a cruel fate.

Instead, he just crosses his arms and huffs to himself.  _Stupid Potter and his stupid hair and his stupidly handsome face, and his stupid lips and his stupid, stupid, stupid cute new secretary.  Stupid me for saying “No” again._

The word ‘jealousy’ does not come to mind.  It is simply not allowed to.  No.  Just no.  Forget it.  _Piss off, you stupid conscience.  I have work to do today._

Draco has quite a bit of work to finish before the day’s out, actually.  He has a report  about the potions raid that occurred two days ago and thank you letters to the Unspeakable department for aiding him and his partner, Bubbletop, at said raid.  Normally, Bubbletop would be the one writing, but he was doused with enough Sleeping Potion that holding a quill simply wasn’t feasible a day after he had woken up.

For Draco, that meant he would have more distractions from thoughts of Potter.  _Lucky me._

Meanwhile, Ron was still waiting in Harry’s office.  _Apparently_ , Harry was too busy showing the new kid around to remember his best friend. It was quite alright though. It meant that he had more time to plot.


	2. Progress?  Kind of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I haven't kept anybody waiting too long! Thank you for waiting!
> 
> Again, when you see a large block of space between paragraphs, it means I've changed the point of view. Sorry if it's confusing.

By the time Harry gets back to his office, Ron’s already got it all figured out.  He is really rather pleased with himself, but if his best friend asks, he will, most certainly, use the baby as an excuse.

“Sorry!” the Head Auror exclaims.  “I thought you’d be arriving later.  And then, this new secretary I have that I didn’t know about showed up and well, I couldn’t really leave him without a desk and then he had all of these questions and sorry!” He is entirely out of breath by the time he finishes stammering.

Ron can’t help but to laugh. “Mate, I haven’t seen been at work for two months and you can’t even start with a greeting?”

“Hello!” Harry pulls his best friend in for a hug.  “And congratulations!”

“Congratulations to you, too! You knew we’d make you the godfather, didn’t you?” Ron smiled.

“Wouldn’t expect any less!” the Head Auror beamed. “Now, should I tell you what your new case is?”

“I'm going to cuff you to the desk, if you don’t.”  Ron would never, but it was fun to say.  “Seriously.  Figuring out how to put diapers on the little tyke is the biggest mystery I’ve had in about 62 days.”

“Can’t have that, can we? Someone’s been selling fake Pygmy Puffs.  There’s paint exploding everywhere.  Something about it has been quite odd as well.  Fights and/or awkward sex keep occurring after the paint splatters.  Nobody knows what to make of it,” Harry looks more confused than he did upon seeing the flying car their second year.

“I’ll get right to it, then,” Ron grins again and heads for the door.

“Thanks, mate. Send Christian in on your way out?” Harry asks.

Christian heard and did not require to be sent in.  “Something I can do to help you, Mr. Potter?”  He’s grinning quite strangely.  It’s almost _flirtatious._ What the fuck?

“If you could just get me lunch,” he goes to get money out of his coin pouch.  “And buy yourself some too, that’d be great.” Harry tries to hand him the coins, but the grin turns into a smirk and his secretary starts to get on his knees. “What on earth are you doing?!”

“You told me to get my lunch,” the blonde says as he winks.  “It just so happens to be under the table.”

Harry’s blush rivals the redness of a tomato.  “E-e-excuse me? No!”  He holds his robes down and snaps his legs shut.

“Fine,” he pouts and it’s adorable, but the answer is still no.

The timing could not have been more perfect because it’s just Harry’s luck that Malfoy was walking past his doorway as the scene occurred.  Christian takes the money and shoots him a naughty wink as they pass each other. Harry feels his heart clench. _Fuck._

“Getting desperate, are we?” Malfoy sneers after Christian has left.

The hurt soon turns to anger. “What do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Again, Harry is the one left baffled in his own office.

 

 

 

 

Meanwhile, Draco is fuming pretty much everywhere.  He walked off after he saw Potter accepting the stupid blonde’s advances and straight into the Slug Bucket where the employees had, in fact, _not_ been informed of the Ministry’s new policies. Or at least they didn’t care to adhere to such nonsense. 

  Now he could drink away the stupid thoughts plaguing his mind.  Especially the ones about stupid Potter.  Because, obviously, those were the only stupid thoughts he had.  Getting drunk during one’s lunch break definitely wasn’t one of them.

“Stupid stupid stupid spectacles and stupid green eyes and stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid everything,” he mutters as he downs the last of his dry martini. A Muggle drink, is what he has been reduced to.

Unsurprisingly so, he fails to notice that in the corner, is Weasley giving him a weird look. After a few more drinks and _a lot_ more muttering, he realizes that his redheaded coworker has joined him at his table and is wearing a terrifying grin. 

“What?” Draco spits out.

“You want Harry, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Fuck. Signs that Draco Malfoy has had too much to drink: confessing feelings for Potter to his best bloody friend.

“You’re an idiot.” As if Weasley has any right to say that.  And with such a gigantic smile on his face. 

Ten years ago, if anybody had told Draco he would be in a pub sitting with Ronald Weasley and on the verge of saying what he was about to say, he would have had that person committed to St. Mungo’s psychiatric division.

“Help me.” Once the words have left his mouth, it’s too late to take them back.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

 

 

 

Ron left the pub smiling. There was no doubt that his plan would work out now.  On top of that, or one could even call it the chocolate on the frog, he had already solved the case he had been assigned earlier.  All he had to do was to confiscate the fake merchandise.

The best part of it all was that it played into his little scheme.  You see, the original idea was to make Harry and Malfoy fight over an exploded fake Pygmy Puff they had confiscated.  After interrogating the unsuspecting culprit over lunch, Ron had learned that there was a special potion in the paint.

A mood detecting potion that made the colors of paint change.  It was genius and idiotic at the same time.  No wonder there had been so many fights.  It was like the Veritaserum of feelings on another level.

One look at Malfoy’s face at the pub told him that the paint would definitely turn red (for love, of course) when he gave it to Harry.  Yes, _when_ , because Malfoy wanted his help and this - this was Ron helping.

Right.  Onto the confiscation part of the case. It wasn’t terribly hard, but it was _imperative_ that he place a stasis charm on the toys before bringing them anywhere.  Once they left the storage room, those things were volatile.  Normally, the charm was used for keeping food warm.  However, as he was talking to the perpetrator, who thought he was conversing with a fellow prankster and definitely not an Auror, the idiot confessed to using the same charm on his merchandise.

AMBUSH.  (with his coworkers Aurors Finnegan (yes, the one who blew too many things up) and Thomas.)

 

 

 

 

When Christian finally showed up with lunch, still pouting, Harry was entirely starving. As he took a bite of his sandwich, he moaned (much like the way he would as soon as he bottomed out in Draco’s arse.)  In fact, he was so enthralled by food consumption that he failed to notice two blondes gaping in his doorway – one who wanted (and still wants) his dick for lunch and the other who had just returned from the pub slightly drunk.

“Well… fuck me.” _Literally._

The familiar husky voice snapped Harry out of his daze and he turned to look at where it came from.

“Ummmm…” he flushed a little. “Malfoy, why are you watching me eat?”

Malfoy blushed, too.   Particularly at his inability to stop the words before they came out of his mouth.  “How was I supposed to know you were eating?  I thought the noise sounded like sex!” he shot back.

“Auror Malfoy,” Christian piped in.  “How do you know what Mr. Potter sounds like during sex?”  He looked somewhat jealous upon realizing the insinuation he’d just made.

“Shut up.” Harry and Malfoy snapped at the same time.

Well, that was a confirmation if there ever was one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. No Howlers please!


	3. cackling (on ron's behalf)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is kind of angsty. but don't be sad!

“Fine.  I’ll go.  You two have some weird sexual tension thing going on anyway,” Potter’s new secretary huffed and went to the break room to eat.

Draco looked at the man who had forgotten about his sandwich.  Merlin, he was adorable.  “I guess we’re pretty obvious, huh?” he chuckled awkwardly. _Wait. Wait one motherfucking second. Did I just refer to Potter and I as ‘we’ – as though… NO.  It’s just a word.  A bloody word._

“Yeah,” Potter smiled back. “I guess we are.”

_Fuck. He said it, too._

“Right.  Back to work,” Draco nodded and walked back to his desk.

_It’s not like that conversation would’ve gone anywhere.  And it’s unprofessional to talk about being fuck buddies at work, much less date your boss._ He tried to shrug it off.

There was a small problem with that. Draco Malfoy never let go of things easily.  All he managed to do, was sigh.

At least… at least Weasley agreed to help him.  Merlin, he must have been really bloody drunk to ask.  There was a high chance he was still drunk, pondering sappy shit like this.

He knew he should have just said 'yes' last night.  He should have just stayed over.  It wasn’t like Potter was asking Draco to love him always and forever or something. Even if he was, it’s not like there was anything he could do to _not_ fall for Potter anyway.  (If he hadn’t already fallen.)

Now, here they were, barely a day later.  An almost-something that wasn’t something anymore.  The worst part was, _something_ was still there.  A bit of awkwardness between them, jealous looks on Draco’s part, confusion on Potter’s side, and one, as much as he hated to admit it, cute new secretary that was a younger (but less good-looking) version of him that Potter could try to replace him with.  It would _never_ work, but nevertheless…

He felt like an idiot.

 

 

 

Harry could say the same for himself. 

_He said ‘we’ not ‘you and I’ or something that would blame it all on me._ We. 

He smiled bitterly. _There_ was _an ‘us.’ Sort of._ And much like Draco was doing in the same moment, he sighed. 

It was like one of those scenes in the movies where the screen was split in two to show what the main characters were doing in different places at the same time. 

“What are you so scared of?” he muttered to himself.  It wasn’t as if Malfoy could hear him, but it felt good to say.   _You’re the one who wanted to start this._   And Harry had complied.

He didn’t decide to “catch feelings.”  No fishing line involved with a pretty arse and a snarky mouth as bait. They just happened.

It was a Tuesday night two months ago.  They weren’t even meeting every day then.  And if anybody had asked, he wouldn’t have been able to tell them when they started every day.

They had just caught big time dealers red-handed with illegal love potions that caused obsession and madness. The feeling of victory never got old.  Sure, every Auror knew there would be more bad guys to catch, but it didn’t mean that they couldn’t enjoy it.

Malfoy had shown up at his door late that night, pounding on the door and slammed him up against the wall without so much as a ‘hello.’  He proceeded to drag Harry to the bedroom, push him into bed, Summon the tape, seal Harry’s mouth, tape his wrists together, and tear his clothes off.

“You’re so hot when you’re helpless,” Malfoy whispered.  “I could just leave you here like this and let somebody find you. The great Harry Potter bound with his mouth sealed shut.  I almost regret the tape.  How am I supposed to kiss those pretty lips now?”  He pauses to lick the space behind Harry’s earlobe, earning a shudder. “I suppose it’s alright. Your inability to talk doesn’t mean I can’t ride that dick until you can’t see.”

For once, Harry liked letting somebody take control of his actions.  He let Malfoy leave as many marks as he pleased that night. Bites, bruises, and scratches. He didn’t even spell them away the next day.

He made a map of kisses and nibbles before impaling himself on Harry’s cock.  Malfoy was so tight it almost hurt.  _Fuck_ if the heat he radiated wasn’t overwhelming.  Harry could do nothing but lie there and watch Malfoy practically bouncing until they both let go.

And when it was all over and done with, the blonde pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder and said, “Thank you.”

He stayed there with Harry for barely five minutes before gathering his clothes to leave, and just before that perfect porcelain arse went out the door, he undid the tape around Harry’s wrists.  “Don’t take the tape off your mouth until I’ve left.”

Harry obeyed.

He felt that kiss for weeks after all of the other marks had gone away.  If ---

“He doesn’t know how good he’s got it,” Christian interrupted his thoughts.  “I know you might think I'm some dopey flirt, but I saw the way you looked at him earlier.”

“I---”

He pressed two fingers to Harry’s lips.  “Don’t.”

_I don’t know what to say._

“I promise not to try anything funny with you anymore.”  He offered a kind, sad smile.

“Whoever gets you is a lucky man,” Harry smiled back.  “You’re really good at buying sandwiches.”

“And giving head, but you wouldn’t know, would you?” Christian winked and went back to work.

Harry just laughed and left his office to find Ron, hoping he was back from the raid already.

 

 

 

And he was. His report was even finished.   Ronald Weasley finished his report within an hour of solving a case.  _What the bloody fuck._ After all these years, Hermione’s working habits were rubbing off on him.

“Mate, I know Hermione asked you to give me cases that aren’t dangerous, but he was practically waiting for me to catch him at the bloody pub,” Ron has the biggest grin plastered on his face.  “You should’ve seen it! I didn’t even take off my Auror robes and he didn’t notice!  He just started trying to sell the merchandise to me the second I sat down at a table.  It was ridiculous!”

“Did he not see the red hair and the resemblance to George?” Harry couldn’t believe his ears.

“Not one bit!” It was almost insulting, but that meant he would be able to get his best friend and Malfoy together sooner. “Now, here’s my report. I think you’ll find it pretty _interesting_.  It sure as hell explains all of the fights that have been going on after the fake Pygmy Puffs explode!”

He sent Harry back to his office, fighting the urge to cackle and allowed himself a smirk before walking over to Malfoy’s desk.

“Give him this. In ten minutes.” And he walked away.

Ron had to give Harry some time to read the report.  It wouldn’t work if he hadn’t read it yet.

“Wait!” Malfoy called.

“Yes?”

“This is you helping? You want me to give him a bloody toy?  Is this some kind of joke?”  He looked furious.

“Yes, yes, and no. You’ll thank me later. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to use the loo.” 

Not really. He had to go far enough away that Malfoy wouldn’t see him removing the stasis charm.

And voila.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


	4. uh oh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fell asleep on the floor of my apartment before I could finish writing this chapter. haven't kept anybody waiting long, I hope?

As Harry read through the report Ron had written, he understood why people were fighting.  You see, when some of the toys exploded, the paint would splatter in a way that wrote the emotion on the wall. 

If a person was lucky (or unlucky) enough, it would tell exactly what he or she was thinking – ‘I want you,’ ‘I’m cheating,’ ‘I’m jealous,’ ‘I hate you,’ etc.  Not only was this counterfeiting, it was creating chaos.  Utter chaos.  Much like Harry’s so-called ‘love life’ which basically consisted of pining for Malfoy.

“A minute, Potter?”  Speak of the _fucking_ devil.

Harry looked up from his report to find the aforementioned devil standing awkwardly in his doorway, fidgeting. _For fuck’s sake, why do you have to be so bloody cute?_

“Come in then.”

“I… I just wanted to give you this.” He held out his hand and in the middle of his palm was the cutest toy Harry had ever seen.  A Pygmy Puff.

He’d seen them in the store George ran by himself now, but he had never bought one.  Harry took another look and he could’ve sworn it blinked at him with these adorable round eyes.  “Thank you,” his eyes turned back to Malfoy and he smiled before accepting the gift.

Unfortunately, before he could ask why, the blonde man ran off.

Harry sighed and placed the toy on his desk, walking around the corner before landing in his chair. It blinked again, as if waiting for Harry to say something.

“I think I’ll name you Blink. It’s not very original, but you keep blinking at me and my brain is made of mush, so Blink will have to do.” He could swear its eyes twinkled a little bit.

 

 

 

 

Little did he know… the blinks were part of the timer set on the toy.  Or that the toy Draco (who was sitting anxiously at his desk for a reaction) was counterfeit. 

Draco didn’t even know why Weasley had told him to give that to Potter, to be honest.  He knew Weasley would be given some sort of funny case, but he had no idea what it was about. 

All Draco knew was that waiting to see what would happen next was testing his patience.  He’d never had much of it.  Anybody who’d known him for five minutes would know it.

Yet… Potter, Potter always liked to test him.  Unless he was in cuffs or tied to the bed, he loved teasing Draco to no end.  Despite grumbles and general _pushiness_ (shoving Potter’s head toward his cock, trying to impale himself on Potter’s prick… you get the idea), Potter took his time licking, planting kisses, fingerfucking Draco until he was about to come in his own pants.  Which he actually did once.  That day, Draco… Draco had to throw out Scourify his pillow ten times before sleeping on it again.

He looked at the Muggle clock on his desk, waiting for something to happen.

Ten minutes passed.  Nothing changed.

Ten became twenty.  Then thirty.  Forty.

_A fucking hour and a half._

 

 

 

 

All the while, Ron sat at his desk, snickering.  It earned him a funny look from Christian, whose desk was closest to his.  “Wait and see,” he mouthed with a wink.

Christian gasped at him silently, held up a finger motioning for him to wait, and turned back to his parchment. ‘YOU SNEAKY SNEAKY MAN!’ it read in bold letters.

Ron just snickered some more and shushed him like Madam Pince would have done.  He couldn’t have the surprise ruined.

This was the most fun he could have at work without having Hermione trying to nag his head off about being careful and Merlin be damned if he wasn’t going to enjoy it.

Less than an hour and a half to go.

He could practically feel Malfoy glaring at the back of his head.

‘STOP GLARING AND DO YOUR BLOODY REPORTS!’ his sign read.  It was almost like they were in school again.  Passing notes instead of whispering, except this time, Harry would be the one coming outside and he definitely could not have _that._

Malfoy huffed and listened. Time passed quickly after that. If anybody thought that Ron did anything more than snicker the whole time, they were sorely mistaken.

Then, there was the climax.

“AUROR MALFOY, GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW!”

Ron gave up.  He burst into laughter.  He could just see it – Harry’s Head Auror robes splattered with red paint.  No doubt some got on his glasses.  He must be fuming.

As soon as the door to Harry’s office shut, Ron scrambled to the door to listen in.

 

 

 

 

Harry was livid.  Not only had his cute new toy burst, but there was paint all over his bloody office!  Not to mention his disappointment – for once, he thought Malfoy was trying to be nice, but this!  This was not so nice.

“What the bloody hell are you playing at, Malfoy?” he shouted.

“I don’t know!  Ask Weasley!  He’s the one that told me to give you the damn thing,” Malfoy sneered back.

And then… And then… Malfoy became _Draco._

Harry’s breath stopped as his memory flashed back to the report.  Somewhere, Ron had written a list of emotions the colors represented.

_Green for jealousy, blue for disappointment, red for love, purple for bravery._ Wait.  Red was for love.  He looked down at his robes.  Suddenly, the splatter didn’t seem so bad.  “You love me,” he whispered.

Draco’s face went hard. Pot- _Harry_ saw through him.  How-  “Read this.” He had never skimmed through any sort of reading faster than he was doing so in that moment.

The time Draco spent reading felt like forever for Harry.  When he was finally done, Draco looked up.

“That conniving arse,” he said as a smile played at his lips.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Draco had no choice but to comply.

 

 

 

 

On the other side of the door, a grin tugged at Ron’s lips.  However, it turned into quite the smirk when he noticed Aurors Thomas and Finnegan sneaking glances at each other.

Just then, somebody thwacked him on the head with a rolled up sheet of parchment. 

He hadn’t even noticed that Harry’s door was no longer closed.

“Don’t even think about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! I hope you liked it.


End file.
